


i think it's time to walk away

by xxpaynoxx



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Facial Shaving, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Riding, Undressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 20:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7402519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxpaynoxx/pseuds/xxpaynoxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Copa América. Leo finds a visitor in his room, and said visitor comforts him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i think it's time to walk away

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't edited or anything, so apologies if there is bad grammar.

the stadium has exploded.

there’s roars from the crowd, but leo doesn’t hear it. he can’t get rid of the redness in front of his eyes, the surge of red jerseys enveloping a single green one, the screams of joy and loud chilean chants being the only sounds echoing in his ears.

he lets his walls down for just a moment, feels the pressure of kun’s head on his back as he looks up at the stadium lights. they’re too bright, again, and it reminds him of those same lights back in rio and again in santiago. and the feeling of the losses, all the losses feel like they’re dragging his heart down out of his chest and onto the field.

the camera is on him, he can tell by the angle. he averts his eyes; he can’t let people see him like this, fragile and broken. he’s been strong for too long, and kun’s head on his back feels heavy and burdening.

the rest of the night is a blur. he remembers the cold seat of the bench, rubbing his eyes so hard he prays they’ll just fall out; the pitbull performance, which was god-awful and hurt almost as bad as watching that ball sail over the crossbar on his penalty; stepping onto the team bus, seeing pocho look at him with worry and bring him into a half-hug, his broken arm swatched in a plaster cast trapped in between them.

when they get back to the hotel, leo lets marcos rojo grab kun’s hand and drag him upstairs. he watches them go, sending kun a small smile as he fiddles with his room key, hearing the last doors slam in the hotel.

finally, he’s alone in the hallway.

there’s nobody to be angry at him. there’s nobody to yell at him. there’s nobody to kiss him and be there for him either. he hasn’t looked at his phone yet, but he knows who is going to be messaging him. he slips his hand into his pocket, exchanging his room key for his phone and scrolls for the one person he needs, the one person who he needs to hear, the one person that can tell him it’ll be okay and that he’ll believe.

and sure enough, there’s a missed call and a few messages from him.

the first messages are early, around five or six in the evening. the last one is a bit forward.

_are u at ur hotel?_

leo blinks, a little confused at first, before responding back.

_yes…? i’m about to go into my room._

the gray bubble pops up almost immediately after, indicating that he’s typing.

_open the door._

leo blinks again, even more lost than he was before as he grabs his room key and unlocks the door, pushing the gigantic piece of wood out of his way that feels more heavy than it did when he left it to go to the team bus this afternoon.

he doesn’t notice that there’s someone in his room until he puts his stuff down and takes his shoes off.

after he does that, he looks up and freezes.

neymar is standing in the middle of his room, dressed in a hoodie and his navy barcelona training sweatpants, a beanie balanced precariously on his brown hair that has a bad habit of sticking out onto his forehead. he raises his arms up in an open gesture, and leo takes two steps and all but collapses into them, pressing his face into neymar’s chest and breathing in his sweet cologne.

“god, neymar, i’m so sorry, i tried so hard for you and for everyone and i-”

but neymar cuts him off, whispering a soft _shhh_ into his ear and pressing a kiss to his temple as he walks the both of them to the bathroom, helping to strip leo out of his clothes.

of course, leo decides to voice the obvious question that’s currently lingering in the back of his mind.

“i thought you were in brazil,” he whispers as neymar shucks off his socks, and he shrugs as he removes his own shirt. “you needed me,” he says simply, slipping the beanie off of his head and running his hands through his hair.

and suddenly, leo _needs_ him. _now_.

he leans forward on the toilet seat and brings neymar’s face up, connecting their lips and digging his nails into his neck and his hair, neymar letting out a high-pitched squeak that softens into a moan as leo opens his mouth and slips his tongue in, running across his teeth and the roof of his mouth.

the bathroom mirror is fogging up now, and leo can see neymar’s bony shoulders shake as leo moves from his lips to his neck and shoulder, licking across the dip in his collarbone and up his neck to tug briefly on his earring. neymar moans.

“can i have you?” he whispers into the shell of neymar’s ear.

“yes, anything,” he hears neymar say in a strangled voice.

he barely finishes the declaration before leo grabs him and all but drags him back into the bedroom, pushing him onto the bed and attaching his lips to neymar’s and slipping into his sweatpants and below the line of his boxers all in one motion.

neymar arcs off the bed into leo’s hand, his breath hitching as leo works him up. neymar’s dick is already hard, so it doesn’t take long for leo to finish him off, feeling neymar release with a cry of leo’s name.

leo’s view turns suddenly, as neymar deftly uses his thighs to flip them over so he’s seated neatly in leo’s lap, pressing his hands on leo’s chest until the argentine relaxes against the sheets, propping himself on his forearms balanced behind him. neymar sneaks up his chest like a cat, licking up the dips in his abs and chest before his forehead rests on leo’s, their eyes connecting. leo feels naked already even though he isn’t, with neymar’s gaze like fire flicking from one eye to another.

leo feels his boxers disappear, and then neymar shucks his off as well, the fabric joining the rest of their clothes on the floor. he starts to lower himself onto leo, but the argentine stops him, fingers tight on his hips. neymar looks up in confusion, and leo blushes furiously as he looks down and back up.

“aren’t you, you know. not prepped?” he asks, and neymar blinks before a wolfish smile appears on his lips, his teeth glinting in the low-light. “don’t worry, amor,” he says, leaning down to whisper into leo’s ear, “i prepped in the plane bathroom.”

and for some reason that leo doesn’t want to dwell on, that gets a small growl out of him and neymar slides down onto him in the same moment.

leo feels _incredible_ for once tonight.

as soon as they establish a rhythm, neymar’s hair is slicked to his forehead and his chest is glittering with sweat as he leans down and cups leo’s cheeks, panting in his face.

“don’t listen to them.”

leo thrusts up automatically, knowing what’s coming.

“don’t, just don’t. don’t listen to them, don’t listen to what they say about you, because they’re wrong. they don’t know you, they don’t know what you’ve been through, they don’t know what you’ve done. they don’t understand how much it hurts, they don’t _get it_ and i hate it when i hear people bash you like they know you and-”

neymar cuts off his little speech as leo thrusts deep one last time, and leo lets out a growl that covers up neymar’s muffled high-pitched whine into his shoulder, his teeth sinking in and making leo grimace for a second as he sees white, feeling neymar’s entire ass clench around him as he empties himself inside of him.

neymar falls onto leo’s chest with a breathy sigh, sucking in air as he leans his cheek on leo’s shoulder, leo’s hands shaking as he brings neymar close to him. he waits for neymar to relax before slipping out, pulling the sheets over neymar’s shaking body.

“did that help?”

leo looks down in surprise at neymar, whose eyes are big and still glazed from the exertion of sex. he looks so young, so innocent, and leo almost forgets about everything that’s happened when he looks at neymar. he almost forgets the injuries, the screaming, the crying, the heartbreak watching a score tally one goal to the opposing team, watching as the love of your life is carried off of the field on a stretcher, writhing in pain.

leo almost forgets until he brushes that little, bumpy scar on neymar’s lower back.

the brazilian shivers, eyes screwing shut as he freezes, breath coming out of his mouth in short pants. “stop,” he whispers, and leo does, lying his hand flat on neymar’s back just above the scar. he brings him close, so close that neymar might as well be attached to his skin as an extra set of limbs, and presses a kiss into his hair.

“we’re going to get through this, alright?” leo whispers, mostly to himself, and he feels neymar nod.

it’s almost three in the morning when leo feels neymar get up, and he blinks as he watches him slip on a pair of boxers and sneaks into the bathroom. he emerges, carrying a razor and a bottle of shaving foam and a towel, and leo stiffens.

“what are you doing?” he asks, his tone wavering as neymar pulls the sheets down to his waist, plopping down on his lap and placing the shaving foam on the side table and the towel (which he’s realized is now damp) on leo’s chest. he doesn’t speak, choosing to instead wet leo’s face, particularly his beard.

leo doesn’t say anything after that, doesn't protest that it took him nearly three weeks to grow this out. he just lets neymar shave it. every stroke, calculated and soft on his face, feels calm. every hair that falls onto the towel helps leo feel a little bit lighter, until finally neymar sits back with a smile, placing the razor on the table and wiping leo’s face clean of any stray hairs.

leo feels like a new person. his face is cold and feels naked, exposed to the air, but he doesn’t feel stuffy anymore. neymar presses a kiss to his cheek, and his lips feel raw on leo’s skin as he rubs his lips all over leo’s cheek and the side of his neck.

he brings neymar back down to his chest, throwing the towel on the floor and pulling the brazilian back down onto his chest with a small squeak from him, leo’s arms effectively encasing him around his chest.

they lie there for a while, neymar’s face pressed into leo’s neck and leo’s hands running along neymar’s bare back softly and continuously until neymar speaks.

“you’re quitting?”

leo’s hands freeze, and he looks down at neymar’s face again, who is looking at him with that same expression again; the one expression that he can’t read properly. so, he sighs and looks up at the ceiling.

“i want to. god, i want to quit so badly, i want to walk away so _badly_. i’m just tired of people criticizing me when i tear myself apart for this country and they don’t appreciate everything i’ve done for them. i’ve thrown that godforsaken team onto my back and carried them to four finals, and they haven’t said shit to me. they don’t care. they don’t want me on the team, and i’m done.”

the silence after leo is finished speaking is thick, and leo doesn’t want to even look at neymar for fear that he’ll start crying. so, instead, he listens to neymar’s soft voice against his neck.

“good. good for you. they don’t deserve you, leo. it’s time they learned how much you’ve done for them. god, i don’t know how they haven’t appreciated you before now, how they can even try to hate you after what they’ve done for you.”

leo doesn’t say a word, but his heart feels lighter as he pulls neymar close, the brazilian taking the opportunity to slip back under the covers and tangle their legs together, pressing a kiss to leo’s neck.

“i’ll be here through all of it, for you.”

and for leo, that’s good enough.


End file.
